Nothing Lost, Nothing Gained
by Legend Aisling
Summary: Evalyn Murdock has had a troubled past. As an adult, she keeps away from attachment. Until she meets Remus Lupin, former Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts. He eventually gains her trust, but asks her for a favor that might cost her life.
1. Mental Exercise

The weather outside was mild and sunny, an ironic contrast to the stormy atmosphere brewing inside the drably decorated office, which would have appeared almost normal, if it weren't for the owl asleep on its perch in one corner, and the moving photographs that festooned the walls. A desk in one corner of the room had an array of strange objects littering it, whose uses involved everything from hypnosis to making tea. There was a large photograph on the wall of a witch with auburn hair pulled back into a tight knot at the back of her head. At the moment, she was asleep in her frame, her chest rising and falling gently. A brass nameplate beneath it read: Dr. Angela Richardson, in lettering that seemed to shift and shimmer. The same woman was sitting perched in a leather armchair, her legs crossed daintily. Her hair was now streaked with gray, but it was still pulled back in the same fashion, and you could see her eyes were a soft blue-gray. She smiled kindly at the young woman sitting opposite of her, yet the smile seemed somewhat strained, as if she were tired of forcing her face to assume a benevolent expression. "Well, Miss Murdock. You certainly are uncooperative this afternoon." The young woman merely shrugged and stared out the window, apparently not caring in the slightest whether she was cooperating or not.

"I'm told your father died when you were young, and that your mother raised you until you graduated from school. Did you find your childhood pleasant?" the psychiatrist inquired, and it was obvious from her tone that this was not the first time she had asked the question. "Was your mother supportive? Did you have a poor relationship with her?" When none of the questions yielded a response, the woman sighed, and waved her wand at the quill that had been poised to take notes. It fell lifeless on the tabletop. "I suppose I will see you two weeks from now, Eva," said Dr. Richardson, standing wearily. "I would suggest that you try and be more open towards sharing your experiences with me, or perhaps a close friend. It would benefit your current…mindset." The young woman, Eva, stood up and nodded wearily. Then she strode over to the door, took her coat from a hook by the door, and shrugged it on. "See you in two weeks," she murmured, before opening the door and stepping out into the hallway. The door shut behind her with a hollow click. Dr. Richardson sighed again, and pulled a small notepad from her pocket. Using a small quill that she always carried on her person, she scribbled a note to herself:

_Unwilling to discuss, does not communicate willingly._

_Needs more work…_

Evalyn Murdock paused outside the office, and ran a hand through her hair, which was a dark shade of brown that was nearly black. She turned back toward the door, then shook her head and walked briskly down the two flights of stairs that led her to the main lobby. "Have a nice day," the receptionist chimed, while chasing a spindly-legged clock across her desk. It let out a high pitched giggle and scampered out from under the desk and through the revolving doors. Eva nodded and gave the receptionist a half-hearted smile, before striding out the door herself. The shops and stalls of Diagon Alley were a familiar sight, and she barely glanced up as she wove her way through the sea of people. Slipping through a group of boys huddled outside Quality Quidditch Supplies, she thought back to the interview. _Dratted psychiatrists…_she thought, frowning. _Think they can know everything about you just by asking you a bunch of rubbish._

"Ma'am, would you be interested in buying an umbrella?" Someone thrust a fluorescent orange umbrella in her face, so that it would have impaled her head had she not taken a step backward. "Muggle invention. They use 'em as a sort of shield to keep dry in the rain. Two Sickles apiece, and that's a bargain." Despite the man's comment, Eva could see that a great deal of umbrellas remained. Hardly surprising, since all a witch or wizard had to do was wave their wand and utter a simple rain repellent charm in order to keep dry. This wizard was wasting his time. "No, thank you," she muttered, pushing it away. "Could be worth something someday, y'know!" the wizard called, brandishing his umbrella at her retreating back.

The temperature had increased steadily as the day wore on, and Eva was only too happy to spend the rest of the day inside The Leaky Cauldron, drinking pumpkin juice and watching witches and wizards go past. They chattered amiably to one another, or remarked on how much the price of such-and-such had risen, et cetera. Outside, the air seemed to crackle with tension and electricity, and the clouds that had dotted the sky were gathering menacingly. "Going to be a hell of a storm tonight," the bartender commented, wiping his counter with a filthy rag. A dark-skinned wizard who was sitting at the counter nodded in agreement, and spoke in a thick Scottish accent. "Aye, 'tis been frightful odd weather th' past couple a' days." A witch sitting on a stool beside him nodded. "My Augurey has been wailing since late this afternoon. Drove me positively barmy, until I put a silencing spell on it." The bartender laughed and re-filled her glass.

Disinterested, Eva set her glass of pumpkin juice on the table and stood up, striding in the direction of the room she was currently staying in. Although she had inherited her mother's house when she passed away, Eva had no desire to live there at all. She preferred a nomadic sort of life, even if it was a bit more expensive. She could do what she wanted, on her own time and schedule. "Not that I have much of anything to do these days," she sighed, opening the door to her room. _Oh, lovely. You're talking to yourself. No wonder they sent you to a shrink_. Ignoring her self-criticism (she was used to it), she flopped backwards onto her bed and glanced around her room, drawing a small amount of comfort from the simple-yet-familiar items that occupied it. There was a rather worn copy of 'Oliver Twist' that she had bought at a rummage sale, a cedar box that contained a sapphire necklace that looked as if it were missing several pearls, and a set of parchment, quills, and ink. A battered looking suitcase was propped up on the window seat, several shirts and sweaters hanging limply from it like deflated pythons.

Lastly, there was a pair of slightly wrinkled, black and white photographs. One was of an older man, with hair that was graying slightly, and a broad smile. As she turned her gaze toward it, the man lifted a little girl off the ground and swung her above his head, before hoisting her onto his shoulders. She clapped her hands over his eyes, giggling, her dark hair ruffled by invisible wind. Her large dark eyes were full of a child's innocence. The other photo was of a grinning young man, who looked to be about sixteen years old, his arms circled around the same girl's waist. She was older now, and her eyes were sparkling with genuine joy, yet there was also something somber about her as well. The boy's hair was slightly mussed, and his eyes were wide and almond shaped. The two of them were wearing the traditional Hogwarts uniforms, and you could see the glint of a Head Girl badge pinned to the girl's robes. They waved energetically at Eva and then laughed silently. She turned away from them and curled her body into a ball of exhaustion and misery.

_The coffin came to rest in it's grave with a dull thud, and Eva flinched, her hand tight around her mother's. Olivia tugged her wrist from her daughter's grasp irritably. "Don't cling so," she scolded. Eva looked up at her, a hurt expression on her tear-streaked face. Her mother hardly glanced at the six year old, and as she dropped a handful of wilted-looking daisies onto the lid of her husband's grave, her eyes held no trace of emotion. The flowers lay on the dark mahogany, looking dirty and pathetic. "Come, Evalyn," Olivia snapped, turning from the grave and marching away across the lawn. Eva obstinately stood rooted to the spot, rain drenching her black dress. "I said, come!" Eva shook her head mutely. Olivia glowered. "Fine, find your own way home. I won't have you sulking." And she turned and disappeared. Eva sank down on the muddy turf, her own rose clutched so hard in her hand that the tiny thorns were pricking her palms. "Daddy," she whimpered, but the dark pit before her didn't answer. She bit her lip, but the tears continued to trickle down her face. She wiped her nose on her sleeve, blinking rain from her eyes. Everyone had gone except for the priest, who stood looking at her pityingly, and spoke kindly. "There's no need to fret, my dear. He's not suffering anymore." _

_But Eva only cried harder, huge sobs wracking her body._

The ear-pounding boom of thunder made Eva sit up in bed, rigid. There were tears on her cheeks. One slid down her chin and dropped onto her lap. She wiped the others away with her hand as a flash of lightning threw the room into bluish white for a split second, before plunging it back into to darkness. She swung her legs down from the bed and stumbled across the room to pull her wand from the dresser drawer. "Lumos," she whispered, and a small globe of light appeared at its tip. Eva set it inside an empty flower vase, and by its feeble light managed to pull off the jeans she had been wearing, and tug on a pair of cotton bottoms. She grimaced as she felt the puckered scar across her shoulder blades, an ugly reminder of the old days. "Nox," she muttered, and the light at the end of her wand extinguished, giving Eva a brief glimpse of her pale, ghostlike reflection in the mirror above her bureau. She went to sit on the window seat, moving the suitcase to the floor.

The memory of her father's funeral was one that seemed to visit only at night, when there was nothing to distract her from the gaping hole that still existed inside her, right next to her heart. Eva could picture her mother's face in her mind, as she stared out the rain-lashed window. The hard emerald eyes, a full red mouth that was turned down at the corners, ebony hair that fell past her shoulders. Beautiful, but cold like a porcelain doll. Olivia was more concerned with ways to keep her face smooth and youthful than taking care of her daughter. This made Eva very unhappy until one day, when she was eight. She overheard a conversation between her great aunt, her mother, and Ms. Freidman, (a friend of the family whom Eva rather disliked, because she had a way of speaking to you that made you feel like something foul and smelly). They had been invited over for tea, and since she wasn't allowed to join them, Eva had to make do with sitting on the bottom step of the stairs and listening to their conversation. "Darling, it's not your fault that your daughter turned out so oddly," said Ms. Friedman, waving a scone at Eva's mother. "It's lack of discipline, that's what. Your husband, God bless him, he didn't exercise any restraint, no. Just let her do whatever she pleased." Eva's great aunt nodded in agreement. "She's so plain," Olivia fumed, stirring her tea. "Yes, indeed. It's a pity that someone as lovely as _you_, had to have such a nondescript child."

Eva found that she was gripping the banister so hard her knuckles turned white. She let go, and saw that it had turned black and charred looking. She had always been able to inflict some amount of damage when she got angry. Her mind reeling, she whirled and ran from the house, into the woods that were behind her house, hardly heeding the twigs and brambles that caught on her clothes and whipped her face. She stayed there all day long, until she got hungry and crept back into her room and lying down in her bed, exhausted. But she couldn't sleep. She kept musing over why it was she was such a disappointment, that her mother couldn't accept that she couldn't be everything she wanted, including pretty.

The next morning, and every day after that, Eva no longer cared whether what she did was acceptable. She spent all her time in the garden, growing potion ingredients and getting rid of gnomes; or reading. She kept as far away from people as possible, and had no friends, but it seemed to suit her just fine.

The small but elegantly furnished home where Eva had grown up, had become a place where it seemed nobody cared whether she was happy, and nobody wanted her.

When she got the letter of acceptance from Hogwarts, she feared that it would be the same: that no one would take interest in a freakishly tall eleven year old, who preferred books to people. Eva sorted into Ravenclaw-- which came as a surprise, since her mother had always told her that she was completely useless and would never amount to much. Hogwarts made her feel more welcome than the dreary house she had lived in before; people didn't seem to ignore her everywhere she went, and Eva found that she didn't avoid people as much as she used to. Nevertheless, she only had two close friends and a handful of acquaintances.

Eva was pulled out of her reverie by another clap of thunder, and she glared out the window. There was absolutely no point in bringing up the past, since there was nothing to be done about it anyway. She sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her face suddenly weary. It was time to move again. Abruptly, she leapt up and snatched her wand. "Pack!" she ordered, and instantly her belongings sprang into her suitcase. She tugged on a jacket and trainers, pulled her hair back in a hasty ponytail, and left the Galleons and Sickles that she owed Tom (the innkeeper) on the bureau. Then Eva heaved her suitcase off the floor, and opened the door to her room just enough so that she could sneak out without anyone hearing. She crept down the stairs and out the front door, covering her head with one arm in a pathetic attempt to keep from getting wet. She dug her wand out of her suitcase, and then waved it, making sure to take a step back after she had done so. Instantly, a pair of bright headlights came speeding around the corner and down the street, attached to a violently purple bus. "Hullo Stan," she said tiredly, and the lanky teenager, who was standing on the steps of the Knight Bus' doorway, grinned. "Hullo Lynnie. Tired of Diagon Alley all ready?" She nodded and gave him a small smile. "I need to get away from here, for a while."

Stan's grin broadened, and he leapt down from the bus and picked up her suitcase. She noticed that much of his acne seemed to have cleared up, and he had grown a several inches. "Well, me n' Ern can help you with that." "Thanks," she said, clambering on and giving Ernie a gratified smile. He nodded in reply, and the bus sped off down the street. "No problem. Where to?" "Hogsmeade," replied Eva, picking the first name that popped into her head. "Right, then. Make y'self comfy, and-- watch it, Ern!" Stan grabbed a bedpost as Ernie swerved to avoid an 18-wheeler. "Damn Muggles," he muttered, combing his hair with his fingers nervously. "What was I sayin'? Oh yeah, go ahead and make y'self at home. I'll take that," he added, as she held out a handful of Sickles and Knuts. Eva collapsed onto the nearest four-poster, and, despite the bus' tendency of swerving and braking unexpectedly, managed to fall asleep.


	2. NotSoCheering Charms

It seemed like a matter of moments before Stan was shaking her awake. "Rise n' shine, sleeping beauty! An' if i' snot too much to say, you look fabulous with bed head." Eva sat up groggily. "Coffee?" asked Stan cheerily, holding up a steaming mug. "No thanks. Are we there already?" "Yeah, Hogsmeade. Hope you don' mind, but it's the start of term, so there'll be a bunch of mad students running around." "That's fine. You wouldn't happen to have a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ with you, would you, Stan?" "S'matter of fact, I do," Stan replied, running up to the front of the bus, and returning a few moments later with a rumpled looking newspaper. "You can have it," he added, turning slightly red and inspecting his shoes. "I'll see you aroun', right? If you ever wan' to chat, or sumffing." Eva grabbed her suitcase and turned away from him, pretending that she was fixing the clasp so he would get discouraged and walk away. She knew he wouldn't, but it was still worth a shot. Sure enough, when she turned 'round, Stan was still standing there, a crestfallen expression on his face. "Don't look at me like that Stan," she snapped, shouldering past him. "I'm nearly eight years older than you."

Stan folded his arms crossly. "S'not that old. How come you never let me take you out fer a drink, eh?" Eva turned red, and paused, turning to glare at him. "Because…" she began, then cleared her throat and sighed in frustration. "Stan, this really isn't the time. You're a good kid, really, but I'm just not…I'm just not for you." Then she turned and, with a little wave to Ernie, sprinted toward The Three Broomsticks, her suitcase bumping against her thighs. Stan made a frustrated noise in his throat. Ernie shook his head and started up the engine again. "She's a flame, that one. She's been through a lot. Ain't no one ever gonna tie 'er down."

Eva trudged down the street, dragging her suitcase behind her and trying to quell the rage that was boiling inside her for no apparent reason. Unable to find words to describe her annoyance, she kicked a lamppost, which emitted a shrill squeak. She gave it several more kicks for good measure. "Are you alright?" a male voice inquired, and she felt someone tap her lightly on the shoulder. She flinched at the human contact, and slapped the hand away irritably. "Yes, I'm perfectly fine. Not that it's any of your business." The man raised an eyebrow over a pair of gray-blue eyes. His light brown hair was streaked with gray, although his face suggested that he wasn't as old as he looked. His clothes were rather worn and shabby looking. "Sorry I asked," he replied. "By the way," he added, "your suitcase is open." Eva stooped and began shoving her belongings back in, feeling considerably irritated. The man bent down to help her, handing her socks and shirts. He held up one of the black and white photos and watched the two adolescents dart in and out of the picture's border. "Is this you?" he asked, pointing to the girl in the photograph. "Yes," Eva replied shortly, holding out her hand to take the photo from him. He held it away from her, still inspecting it. "Is that…Liam? Liam Keating?" "Give me that!" Eva demanded hotly. "He was an excellent chaser. I watched him, a couple times, after I graduated. Do you know him?" Eva snatched the photo and shoved it inside her suitcase. "If I did, I wouldn't tell a stranger I just met on the street." She began heaving the suitcase down the street, her rage making thin cracks across the pavement wherever she stepped.

When she finally reached The Hog's Head she paid for a room, and ordered a glass of rum. Her rage cooled somewhat, she thought back on the conversation (if you could call it a conversation) that she had had with the wizard on the street. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but she couldn't place it, and in the end she simply gave up. _How could he have known…?_

She put her head in her hands. No, she wasn't going to go there. He's gone, he's never coming back. She let out a groan of frustration. "I hate it here," she mumbled into her palms. "'Scuse me, ma'am?" inquired a voice.

Eva raised her head. The bartender held out another glass of rum. Eva stared at him, puzzled. "I haven't paid for another one," she said, pushing the glass away. The bartender thrust it at her again. "No need to. That gentleman over there has just offered to pay." Eva frowned, and craned her neck to see who the bartender was pointing at. The brown-haired wizard she'd met on the street waved at her sheepishly. Eva opened her mouth to begin the usual tirade that followed being courted in any way, but the wizard strode over and put a finger across her lips, which (she hated to admit) didn't feel so bad. "Hear me out, alright? I just want to apologize for being so prying, and ask you a few questions." She took a step away from him and folded her arms. "I'm sorry, but I'm not interested in relationships." A blush spread across the wizard's pale cheeks. "No, I think you misunderstand me. Merely a courtesy I wished to extend, for…ah…" He looked so uncomfortable that she nodded curtly, and gestured for him to sit. "Remus Lupin," he said, extending a hand. "Evalyn Murdock," she replied, shaking it. "You went to Hogwarts?" she asked, taking a sip of her rum. He nodded. "Gryffindor. Graduated in '78. What about you?"

"Ravenclaw; graduated '91." She bit her lip, frowning slightly. "What did you say your surname was?"

"Lupin."

"Ah, the lycanthrope. You taught at Hogwarts for a time, yes?"

"For a time, yes. I should have guessed that word would get around," he added wryly.

"Ah, well." Eva shrugged. "Your reputation precedes you."

"I suppose it does." He peered at her over a glass of brandy. "You look somewhat familiar. Do you work in the Ministry at all?" Eva swirled her rum around in her cup. "I did, for a little bit."

"What department?" prompted Lupin, when she didn't continue. "Magical Law Enforcement, Level Two" muttered Eva, glaring into her glass of rum. "An auror?" Lupin looked surprised. "I'm retired," Eva snapped. "Oh." Lupin looked as if he would have liked to say more, but he merely took another swig of brandy. Eva, anxious to break the awkward silence, started to say something, but was cut off.

"Professor Lupin!" a trio of voices chorused, and several students wearing Hogwarts robes came sprinting over to their table. Two were boys: a tall one with flaming red hair, and a short, skinny one with untidy black hair and glasses. There was a bushy-haired girl with them, clutching a bulging book bag. "What are you doing here?" she inquired, unslinging her bag and rubbing her shoulder. "Who's your friend?" added the red-haired boy, glancing from him to Eva with a bemused, slightly mischievous expression. "Nothing, Hermione. Just having a chat. And really, Ron, we've just met." The spectacled boy said nothing, but looked rather pleased to see Lupin. "Former students?" asked Eva. Lupin grinned. "Ah, yes, of course. This is Ron Weasley--" Lupin waved his hand at the tall redhead, who turned nearly as red as his hair and didn't meet Eva's eyes. "Hermione Granger--" The bushy-haired girl gave Eva a tentative smile. "--and Harry Potter," Lupin finished, putting a hand on the dark-haired boy's shoulder. Eva managed to keep her jaw from dropping, and her eyes flickered momentarily to the lighting shaped scar on Harry's forehead, only just visible behind his bangs. "Er…nice to meet you. Say hello to your father for me, Weasley. I used to know him, back when…" she trailed off and turned to Lupin. "If you'll excuse me, I've got to…I have things to do, and I'm sure you'd like to chat. Goodbye."

Eva slid out of her chair, and stumbled out of the bar. Lupin and the others stared after her. "Does she work with your dad, Ron?" asked Harry. Ron shook his head. "I don't think so." "She used to be an auror, from what I understand," Lupin said quietly, draining his glass. "An auror?" Hermione repeated. "But she looked so young!" "Tonks is an auror too, and she doesn't look much older," Harry argued.

Eva walked down the dingy corridor, wishing she hadn't left so abruptly. She slouched into her room and shut the door behind her, leaning against it heavily. Sitting down in a chair by the smoldering fire, she stared, unseeing, into the embers. Lupin had seemed very keen to talk to her, which was unusual, since all he done was piss her off by prying. "What does he think he's playing at?" she fumed, drumming her fingers on her knees. The fire let out a loud crack and burst into flames. "Damn it!" she spat, rubbing her singed ankles. "Eva, might I have a word?" asked a female voice. "Sure," said Eva wearily. Dr. Richardson's head suddenly appeared inside the fire. "How are you, dear? Doing alright?" Eva nodded glumly. "Good, good. Have you been taking your Cheering Charms, as I requested?" "Er…not exactly," Eva admitted. Dr. Richardson sighed with frustration, closing her eyes momentarily. "My dear girl, how many times do I have to tell you? You cannot possibly hope to come out of this negative mindset if you do not take steps!" Eva bristled slightly at being called "my dear girl".

"Doctor, I thought I mentioned my reluctance to engage in magical optimism. I would prefer to handle it on my own…" "But you aren't handling it! You need encouragement, Ms. Murdock. It is my job to help--" Eva's temper flared. "I don't need help! I refuse to take artificial happiness, however beneficial it may be!" Dr. Richardson seemed unperturbed, her face calm. "I realize that you are upset, Evalyn. Grief affects us all in different ways, and if you don't mind me saying so, it seems to make you very violent." Eva seized a particularly grotesque porcelain goblin from the nightstand and waved it threateningly. "I'll show you violent, you wretched woman!" Dr. Richardson hardly batted an eyelash. "I shall see you at your next appointment. In the meantime, kindly control your temper." That said, her head vanished from the fireplace, and the fire once again became a pile of glowing ashes. She set the ornamental goblin on the mantel, and then snatched her wand from the nightstand. "_Levo Spiritus!"_ she shouted, and then squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself.

Instantly, a wave of elatedness filled her, swelling like an enormous balloon inside her. She began to giggle hysterically, and then laugh so hard that tears streamed down her face. There was nothing wrong now, nothing wrong at all. Somewhere in the farthest recesses of her mind, Eva knew she had overdone the Cheering Charm. She slid to the ground, cackling maniacally, gasping for breath, her head spinning.

"_Liam, you are such a wanker!" shouted a sixteen-year-old Evalyn, dodging a snowball that still managed to clip her shoulder as it flew by. "Say that again!" challenged her friend, a lithe Gryffindor with a pair of hazel eyes and a mouth that was perpetually set at a mocking tilt. The two of them were in a snow covered courtyard, wearing thick woolen scarves and (in her case) a crocheted hat that fit snugly about her head. Her dark hair was sticking out from under it. Eva scrambled up onto a stone bench, threw back her head, and struck a dramatic pose. "Liam Keating is a wanker, and has dung for brains," she announced. He growled and lunged at her. She dodged, leapt off the bench and went tearing down the path, slipping and sliding on the slick stones, screaming in mock terror. Liam sprinted after her, caught her about the waist, and hoisted her over his shoulder as easily as if she were a doll. _

_Eva didn't bother struggling, she merely propped her head on her hand as if being handled like a sack of potatoes was a common occurrence. "D'you know how much trouble we'll be in if anyone knows we've skipped History of Magic?" Liam grinned and set her down on the bench, running a hand through his untidy chocolate-colored hair. He leaned against a statue of a mermaid blowing a conch, and broke off one of the icicles that were hanging from its elbow, turning it over idly in his hands. "Not much. Professor Binns is too busy droning about some dead warlock or other to notice if a couple of sixth years decide to do something with their afternoon." _

_Eva snickered and gave his tie a yank. "Oy!" he yelped, jerking away and making a face. "You're Head Girl. You're supposed to be setting a good example." Now it was Eva's turn to make a face. "I'm sick of being a good example. I didn't even want to be Head Girl, anyway!" She wouldn't have told Liam, but this was a subject Eva had been brooding over since their first day back. She began to pace back and forth, her voice rising. "I can't even measure up to my mum's standards. How am I going to measure up to Dumbledore's?" "Why should you care what your mum wants? It's not like she's ever done the same for you." Eva sat down heavily on the bench, and put her head in her hands. Liam sat down beside her, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. "Sorry, I didn't mean-" "No, you're right. Everyone thinks I'm some sort of joke, that I only got to be Head Girl because-" "Bollocks," snapped Liam. "You're Head Girl because you deserved it. You can think on your feet, and-" "Mr. Keating!" The two sixth years leapt to their feet. _

_Professor McGonagall was striding up the walk, the look on her face enough to make Liam wince. "What in heaven's name are you doing out here?" she asked, her eyes flashing with fury. Liam pressed himself backward against the mermaid statue. "Er…I was…um…sorry Professor," he mumbled, turning red. "That's not all you're going to be. Twelve points from Gryffindor." Professor McGonagall seemed to just catch sight of Eva, and her expression was both disappointed and angry. "Miss Murdock, I expected more of you. As Head Girl, you are a role model for your house! Fifteen points from Ravenclaw." Eva bowed her head, heat rising to her cheeks. "Both of you are to go straight to class, immediately. I will be sending owls to both your parents-" Liam glanced at Eva, whose face had gone slightly pale "-and you will both have detention." "Yes Professor," they said in unison, before dashing away. McGonagall stared after them and heaved a sigh, before turning herself into a tabby cat and slinking off._

Eva's head was pounding, and she was lying facedown on the floor of her room. She sat up, putting a hand to her throbbing head. The room tilted and spun sickeningly. "Ugh…oh, shit." She dropped to all fours and crawled over to the dresser, which she used to help herself stand up. _Note to self: never listen to psychiatrists. _Raucous laughter floated up to her from the bar below, and she listened to it wistfully. There was nothing she'd like better than to go numb her brain with alcohol, but something made her hang back. Instead, she began unpacking her suitcase, setting her odd assortment of objects on the dresser, and re-folding the clothes. When she had finished, she took the photo of the boy and girl out of the cedar box, and ran her fingertips lightly over it. Her eyes felt hot, and a sudden lump in her throat was making it hard to swallow. Her eyes remained dry, however, as she stared at the photograph. "I miss you, you know," she whispered to it. "God, I miss you so much." She set the photo down on the dresser again, and descended to the bottom floor, where it was noisy enough for her thoughts to be drowned out.


	3. The Dementor's Evocation

The following day was cold and rainy. Eva paced up and down her room, fighting the urge to scream. She was going to go mad in here; there was nothing to do, nowhere to go. She was starting to have nightmares again: horrible, terrifying nightmares that left her shivering and drenched in sweat. "I need to get out of here," she muttered through clenched teeth. She grabbed her cloak from a hook behind the door, and pounded down the stairs to the bottom floor of the inn. No one paid her more than a fleeting glance as she hurried out the door. The rain was coming down so heavily it felt as though someone was running a faucet above her head. Not surprisingly, hardly anyone was out on the street, which happened to suit Eva just fine. She turned and began walking in the direction of the Shrieking Shack. She'd been there hundreds of times on school trips to Hogsmeade, but since the weather was particularly nasty and the Shack was still given a wide berth by civilians, it was a convenient spot if you wanted to be alone.

Eva finally reached the hill next to the Shrieking Shack, drenched to the skin. It had never occurred to her to bring her wand, in order to cast a rain repellent charm, and she wistfully regretted not buying an umbrella from the wizard in Diagon Alley. She sat down on the stump of a tree, resting her head in her hands and staring morosely at the Shack. She needed something to do, to take her mind off things. Another job, maybe. Or a hobby. For a moment she almost regretted retiring as an Auror. Until she remembered what the price had been. "So many lives ruined," she whispered. And now…now that the Dark Lord had returned, how many more lives would it take, innocent or otherwise? And the Death Eaters…would they continue to massacre, mutilate, and otherwise destroy those that opposed them, now that their master had returned? An icy chill slid down her spine.

Eva stood up, rubbing her frigid arms. The icy feeling felt as if it were seeping through her body and into her bones. She shuddered, and turned around to begin making her way back to The Hog's Head. What she saw made her stagger backward several feet. A dementor was gliding toward her, its breath rattling as it turned to look at her. Even if she'd had a wand to conjure a Patronus, she doubted if she could have. She seemed to be frozen to the spot, her heart hammering against her ribs, her breath coming in small shallow gasps. Eva felt her knees buckle as the dementor drew closer, one of its dead-looking hands extended toward her. Her head was swimming; she couldn't think straight. The cold was wrapping itself about her like a shroud.

_Eva groped blindly around her. "Liam," she moaned, praying he would answer. She felt his hand beneath hers, and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. "Liam! Wake up, we have to…" she trailed off, terror making the rest of the sentence stick in her throat. She felt him stir and sit up. Eva didn't have to explain what had happened; he already knew. "Are you alright?" he asked, pulling her to her feet. "Fine. I'm fine," she lied, wincing a little as she stood. "Did they take your wand too?" he asked, knowing it was gone before he even reached for it. "Yes. It's gone." Liam walked over to the door of their prison and tried the handle. "It's locked, don't bother," Eva said, her voice toneless. "Damn it." He ran his hands over the door's steel surface, searching for a crack, a loose hinge, anything. Predictably, there wasn't one. "It's times like these, you really wish we didn't depend on magic so much," said Eva, with a lopsided grin. Liam grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "Stop it, E. There's got to be a way out." Eva tugged away, her voice rising hysterically. "Wake up, Liam! There's nothing we can do!" _

_Liam opened his mouth, then shut it again with a snap. He backed away from her slowly until he was pressed against the wall, slid down until his was sitting on the floor, resting his head on his knees. "I'm just as scared as you," he murmured. "But I can't give up now. There has to be something, and…even if there isn't…I'm not going to give up." He looked up at her, fierce determination on his face. Eva walked over to crouch beside him. "I'm sorry," she said heavily, putting a hand on his shoulder. He lifted his eyes to hers, and it was suddenly obvious how young both of them were. They were barely out of Hogwarts; they weren't ready for this kind of brutality. There was an ominous rumble f laughter, and the door swung open, revealing three Death Eaters, their eyes glittering malevolently from behind their masks. Their heads snapped up, and they scrambled quickly to their feet. Eva's teeth were chattering against each other, and she clenched them together, trying to turn her fear into rage. Liam's eyes were hard as he gazed calmly back at the Death Eaters. Two of them stepped into the room moved toward them, drawing out their wands. _

_Liam moved closer to her, his shoulder brushing hers. "How touching," one of the Death Eaters said coolly to Liam, circling the two of them like a falcon; deadly. "Two aurors barely out of the Academy, cut down in their prime." He turned to Eva, cupping her chin with a pale hand, turning her to face him. "Pity," he murmured, "you'd actually be quite lovely." She glared at him, biting back a scream of rage. He dropped her chin roughly. Liam's frame was taut, the look in his eyes murderous. The Death Eater laughed at his discomfort, running a finger teasingly down Eva's throat, to rest on her collarbone. She resisted the feral urge to bite him. Liam had other means of insuring her safety. He moved so fast that his fist was little more than a blur, catching the Death Eater in the throat. He staggered slightly, and two of his companions rushed forward. One seized both Liam's wrists and pinned them behind his back. The other caught Eva by the shoulders and forced her back against the wall. "Son of a bitch," Liam spat through clenched teeth. "You are hardly one to talk of heritage, you filthy Mudblood bastard," his captor replied, giving his arms a cruel yank. Liam inhaled sharply, gritting his teeth as tiny pinprick of pain shot of his arm. "Let me go," Eva snarled, her cheek pressed hard against the cool stone of their cell. She tugged her wrists out of the Death Eater's vise-like grip. He drew his wand, but his comrade waved him off. "But Antonin--" Antonin Dolohov Eva thought with a shudder. "No, Karkaroff," Antonin barked, rubbing his throat where Liam had struck him. "Leave her. She can do nothing." His mouth curled into a reptilian smile. It's true. The sinking feeling of dread sucked the strength right out of her. I can't do anything. "Your impudent friend is going to discover what happens to those who make the fatal mistake of defying the servants of Lord Voldemort." Liam let out a harsh laugh, which was quickly silenced by a rough jerk of the head. "Crucio!" Liam tried in vain to suppress screams of agony as his limbs went rigid, and his eyes rolled back in his head, and his body writhed and twitched on the floor. "Stop it!" Eva shouted desperately, trying to be heard over the screams and the Death Eater's laughter. "Stop!" she begged, abandoning dignity and throwing herself at Antonin's feet, tears sliding unbidden down her face. He smiled down at her; a cat welcoming a mouse to supper. The sudden silence was punctuated only by occasional screams from Liam. "Please stop," she said quietly, prostrate on the floor. Dolohov did nothing for several moments; gazing down at his prey, he slowly lifted the point of his wand away from Liam's chest. Liam's strangled screams turned into labored breathing, and he lay face up on the floor, his chest heaving. Eva scrambled to him on all fours, lifting his head gingerly and smoothing his hair away from his forehead. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she whimpered, tears continuing to trickle down her cheeks. Choking on her sobs, she rocked gently back and forth, unable to say more. The Death Eaters glided silently out of the room, and the room was dark and silent once more._

"_Expecto Patronum!"_ a voice shouted, sounding muffled as though in a fog. Then again, more clearly: _"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_ There was a flash of blinding white light, and the dementor released Eva's shoulders. It had been gently lifting her toward it, and now turned to glide quickly away. Eva came to, lying facedown in a puddle of muddy rainwater. The icy cold feeling was ebbing slowly from her body, and she moved several fingers tentatively. A pair of glasses swam into focus, followed by a pair of anxious bright green eyes. Eva opened her mouth, but all that came out was a rasping sound. There was something familiar about that lightning shaped scar…what was it, what was it? "Harry Potter?" Eva managed to croak. Harry nodded anxiously. "Are you alright?" She nodded, and then groaned as her vision spun and blurred.

"Harry? Harry!" Hermione, Ron, and Lupin were sprinting up the hill toward them. "Oh no," Eva muttered, trying to sit up. "Don't," said Lupin gently. She ignored him and grabbed Harry's shoulder to keep herself upright. "Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked worriedly. "I'm fine," Harry replied shortly, glancing at Eva out of the corner of his eye. "What happened?" Lupin asked, glancing from Harry's hand (which was still clutching his wand) to Eva's ashen face. "There was a dementor…" Harry muttered. There was a brief flicker of fear in his eyes, and then it was gone. Ron blanched, and Lupin's brow furrowed in concern. "They keep turning up, don't they?" he muttered. He pulled a Chocolate Frog out of his pocket and offered it to Eva. She unwrapped it, glanced at the WOW card out of habit, and then took a bite. Her stomach churned, and she stumbled over to a nearby tree as it ejected its contents. Hermione hurried over to hold her hair away from her face, patting her back soothingly and shooting warning glances at Ron, who looked rather revolted. When Eva stopped heaving up her breakfast, she spat, wiped her mouth, and coughed dryly. Lupin had gone very red. "I'm sorry, I thought--" Eva waved away his apology. "I'm fine, really," she assured him, and then collapsed.

"_I'm fine, really," Liam rasped, his voice hoarse from screaming. Eva was silent. "It…doesn't hurt once it's over." Eva stared, unseeing, at the wall across from her, Antonin's face leering in her mind's eye. "I'm going to kill them," she vowed, hugging her knees to her chest. "No!" Liam exclaimed, sitting up and grabbing her wrist. "No…" he said again. "Please don't, I couldn't…" his voice broke, and he turned away, his whole body shaking with repressed sobs. She put her arms around his shoulders, as if just by touching she could draw some of the hopelessness out, like poison from a wound. "You don't always have to be so strong, Liam." "I can't lose you too," he murmured, burying his face in her hair, his breath moist against her neck. "You're not going to lose me," she said firmly, kissing the top of his head. He sat up, so that their faces were only inches apart. "I can't lose you too," he repeated, reaching out to brush her cheek with his fingertips. A wave of warmth washed over her, despite the chill emanating from the stone walls. His lips brushed hers, and Eva found herself moving forward, placing one hand on his shoulder; the other rested gently at the nape of his neck. She could feel his pulse beating just beneath his skin as they kissed. It was as if that were the only thing keeping them from dropping dead on the spot._

Harry watched as Lupin prodded the fire with an iron rod, sending a spiral of sparks flying up the chimney. "Will she be alright?" he asked, glancing over at Eva's still form stretched out on the couch. Lupin nodded. "I'm sure she will be." He eyed Harry, concerned. "Are _you_ alright Harry?" "Yes, thanks to that Patronus Charm you taught me in my third year." Lupin turned back to the fire. "Horrible creatures, dementors," he said quietly. Harry agreed with him silently. Then he realized something about the afternoon's encounter.

"Professor?"

"Yes?"

"She's the only other person I've met who falls apart around dementors."

"Perhaps she, like you, has had horrific experiences." Lupin's expression was sad, and vaguely thoughtful. Eva made a soft, moaning sort of noise and stirred. There were tears tracking silently down her face. Harry felt a surge of pity that was the first that hadn't been for himself in a long time.

_Wonder what those are…_


End file.
